


In Living Flowers

by martial_quill



Series: clearer than clear water [7]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Do Hobbits Have Beards? A Mystery, Hobbitish Notions of Modesty, Opinions About Bonnets, The Shire, Third Age, respectability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 06:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17934569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martial_quill/pseuds/martial_quill
Summary: A young Lobelia Bracegirdle attends the Marish Show, sees an odd couple, and is struck by an equally odd fancy.It’s all nonsense, of course. She’s a respectable young woman.





	In Living Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bunn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunn/gifts).



> This fic was written with a very simple question in mind. Why did Neniel start wearing shoes? Perhaps it had something to do with having guests at the time. 
> 
> It mutated into this. Bunn, I blame you.
> 
> The Southfarthing bonnets are "tall bonnet" styles, because I needed them to have something different from the Marish. 
> 
> This fic was written after midnight. Again. 
> 
> Goldberry's appearance is based on bunn's incredible painting of her. You can find it here: http://cycas.tumblr.com/post/180407484839/o-slender-as-a-willow-wand-o-clearer-than-clear
> 
> Title is taken from the Hobbits' first meeting with Goldberry: "They came a few timid steps further into the room, and began to bow low, feeling strangely surprised and awkward, like folk that, knocking at a cottage door to beg for a drink of water, have been answered by a fair young elf-queen clad in living flowers."

Lobelia Bracegirdle would reluctantly have to admit that the vegetables of the Marish Show were very impressive. Only to herself, of course. But she was adamant that the style of the festival-goers could not compete with the Southfarthing Show. The bonnets worn by the Maggots were particularly unimpressive: broad-rimmed, straw-woven things, designed for protection against the sun, and trimmed with thin ribbon dyed a plain green – all of them the same! – and then horrible pink carnations tucked into the ribbon. The stray Took who had showed up was worse, of course. Although the Brandybucks who had come into the festival were all dressed…well, rather nicely, actually. Their bonnets were also straw, but the domes were covered in a light fabric, ranging in colours from pale green to a dark, glowing yellow. One of them in particular was simply gorgeous. It was covered in a dark orange cotton, and had a spray of woven fabric flowers dyed in reds and yellows tucked against the band, resting gently on the brim.

Lobelia resisted the temptation to rip it right off Rosie Brandybuck’s smug, smirking face, and instead, adjusted her own new bonnet. Its brim was much smaller, done in the style of the Southfarthing, and the dome of it was very tall, covered in a lovely linen, coloured a deep, dark green, and decorated with pink cloth roses sewn onto the fabric.

It looked very distinguished, she told herself firmly, and not at all out of place.

“Do you think we’re a bit overdressed?” her younger cousin, Aster Longbottom, asked. Aster was only eighteen, of course, which explained why she was so nervous. Lobelia, hovering around the age of twenty-eight, was no longer prey to such things.

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Lobelia declared firmly, looking her cousin in the eye. Their elder cousin, Lily Longbottom – her parents were more loving than wise, Lobelia’s own mother often said – was busy speaking with the Brandybucks, as they surveyed the Brandybucks’ onions and carrots, so Lobelia and Aster were walking through the show, arm in arm.

“But Lobelia! That woman isn’t even wearing a bonnet!”Aster jerked her head to the side, frantically. The bonnet slid dangerously to the side, and Aster caught it before it could slide to a noticeably askew angle. Not that it would be a terrible loss if it did go askew, or even if it landed on the ground. Aster’s bonnet was a dark brown, and only decorated with a light tan ribbon, tied into a neat, large bow around the left side. Really. How _plain_.

Lobelia followed the arc of Aster’s aborted gesture, and her eyebrows rose.

Standing beside the Maggots was the tallest woman she had _ever_ seen. Easily twice the size of Mrs Maggot. Was she one of the Big Folk? Lobelia had always heard that they were rather big and stupid and foolish, but this woman, while big, did not seem stupid or foolish at all. Instead, there was something gentle and merry about her, like sunlight playing on water.

Lobelia shook the fanciful thought away, and focussed on what she could see. The woman’s hair was a golden waterfall, curling to her waist, some locks dark as honey, and some pale as sunlight. Rather than obscure it with a bonnet, she wore purple irises, pale lilies, and blue forget-me-nots – flowers, _real_ flowers – all twisted into a wreath set on her head. She wore a sleeveless green dress that billowed out around her hips like a kirtle, and there was no embroidery on it at all. 

Lobelia was not entirely sure how Aster had managed to miss the most strange, revolting feature about the woman’s appearance.

The dress ended at her ankles, exposing a pair of hairless, naked feet. They were surprisingly small, considering how tall the woman was, only a little larger than Lobelia’s own. They were a deep brown colour, the same colour as the woman’s hands, the colour of farmers burnished and bronzed by the sun, and Lobelia’s head tilted to the side, as the woman bounced on her toes, as though in excitement. Her cheeks felt oddly hot.

The woman was laughing as she spoke to Mrs Maggot, her head tilted and the sunlight blazing on her hair.

“Lobelia? Are you alright?” Aster’s voice sounded a little concerned.

Lobelia shook herself hard, and scowled at her cousin. “Of course. I’m fine.”

Then she looked back at the woman, and blinked, as she realised that the woman was not alone. Standing at her side, a good two feet shorter than her, tanned skin and bright blue eyes was…

Well, he didn’t seem like a Hobbit. He was wearing bright yellow boots, and a bright blue jacket, and his arm rested casually around the woman’s waist. His face was covered in some thick fur, the same colour as his brown hair. He had an amused twinkle in his eye as he turned and looked at Lobelia, his hand resting on the small of the woman's back.

Lobelia had a sudden impression of being very seen, and very small all at once. That this…not Hobbit, not Man, this _creature_ had seen all of her at once, and did not even regard it as being worthy of exasperation. Simply…amusement.

Beside her, Aster gasped as she realised they had been caught staring. Lobelia stared back defiantly.

“Do you suppose,” she began, not breaking the gaze, “that he has to stand on a box to kiss her?”

Aster spluttered beside her, her cheeks turning a dangerous shade of red. Lobelia continued anyway. “Although it can’t be pleasant for her anyway, considering all that fur on his face. And what on earth is wrong with her _feet?_ They’re completely _naked_!” The tanned skin around blue eyes wrinkled up, crows’-feet stretching across the face, white teeth flashing through the dark fur. “If you can’t grow some decent fur on your feet, then you should do as the Big Folk do, and wear shoes.”

Aster paused, beside her. “I thought you hadn’t met any of the Big Folk, Lobelia?”

Lobelia sniffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I haven't." It would be dreadfully un-respectable. Absolutely unhelpful for her marital prospects.

The woman bent to poke at one of Mrs Maggot's carrots, and Mrs Maggot playfully slapped her hand.

Really, Mrs Maggot's hat would look better on fire.

"So how do you know?" Aster asked.

Lobelia flushed, pulled from the thought. "My second cousin Eglantine Sackville heard through your Aunt Rosemary, who heard it from Rosie Brandybuck – not _that_ Rosie Brandybuck, her grandmother – that they wear shoes. There are Brandybucks outside the Shire, you know, and old Rosie Brandybuck is the Mistress of Buckland. So she'd know. But it’s shocking!”

And not at all tempting. Not even a little bit.

The blue eyes had turned a little more thoughtful now, and then suddenly, Lobelia had the feeling as though she gazed into a well of sadness, very deep and very old, something that had run down long through the years, until it ran across her. But it was not simply sad and thoughtful. There was pity, in the gaze, as well, and something like a question, a silent  _why?_ in the tilt of the creature's head. 

The woman laughed, and Lobelia swallowed. Then she looked away, from both the woman and the creature, and took a deep breath. “Really. Just dreadful.”

Perhaps Mama had been right, and coming with her cousins to the Marish Show had not been the wisest of ideas. It was giving her strange, fanciful thoughts.

“Well, I suppose so,” Aster said, a little uncertain. But then, Aster was still very young, and so bound to be uncertain about these things.

“Of course it is,” Lobelia said firmly, and she took a deep breath. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Lily.”

She thought she’d had quite enough sun for one day.


End file.
